Screwin' Up Young
by pleiadex
Summary: (Runaway AU: Part One) Jim Hawkins runs away from home after receiving a map to the mythical Treasure Planet. Hilarity, heartbreak, and pirate hijinks ensue.
1. Chapter One

A/N: heya fellas! never written a fic before, but i hope you like this one. i'll update with new chapters as often as i can. special thanx to my friend kip for their editing help!

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Jim Hawkins took a long, deep breath as he stepped onto the creaking old cargo ship. He looked around cautiously, and, holding his breath, took another step forward. Although the place seemed deserted, he couldn't keep himself from flinching as the deck squealed beneath his boots. Still, he saw no signs of anyone else on board, and as such decided that this would be as good a ship as any.

Jim crept forward, looking back every so often to make sure no one was sneaking up on him. He pulled the strap of his bag higher up on his shoulder. It wasn't terribly heavy, but definitely not comfortable to be carrying. The canvas strap was starting to chafe his skin through his jacket, and he was growing anxious to find a place to hide and rest for a bit. He'd been out since the early morning hours, scouting for a suitable vessel to stow away on. A surge of anxiety struck him, and he eagerly pushed his hand into his jacket pocket, and pressed his palm against the cool, reassuring metal of the map. He sighed, relieved, and ran a trembling hand through his hair while he tried to decide where he should hide.

At first, he considered the barracks, but then decided that that would never work. There wouldn't be enough places to hide, and it would be impossible to leave without being noticed once people started boarding the ship. Then, he debated the brig. Surely no one would think to check there. Then, a knot of panic struck him in the chest, and he thought of the possibility that he might accidentally be locked in while he was sleeping. Or, worse, locked in with a dangerous criminal, with no way to escape or fight back.

So that wasn't going to work, either.

Jim sighed again. This was going to be harder than he thought; too much could go wrong, too quickly, with too little time to think. He'd have to go with his gut on this one. So he moved around the mast, slowly, and then had an absolutely wonderful idea. Eagerly, Jim moved to the nearest opening in the floor, and peeked in. The galley. It would be the perfect place to hide. Easy access to food, wouldn't constantly be occupied… perfect. Plus, he could always just hide in a barrel when the crew began to board.

Jim eased his boot onto the first step. It creaked, like everything else on the ship, and he held his breath for a few seconds and braced to run if anyone, or anything, moved below deck. But Jim heard nothing, and continued down the stairs. As he descended, he squeezed his eyes shut to help them adjust to the darkness. He opened them and blinked a few times. He could see nothing but supplies, food, and a few tables, all illuminated dimly by the yellow afternoon light seeping through the ceiling grates.

Anxious to hide himself, Jim didn't bother to check around the rest of the area before he dove behind a careful stack of crates and barrels. He was just pushing his bag behind a box of purps, when he thought he heard a heavy something behind him. He froze, too afraid to turn around. And when he finally mustered the will to do so, he felt his heart pummel itself through his stomach.

Standing directly behind him was some kind of beast. From his angle, it looked ten, no twenty feet tall. Breathing heavily, one eye gleaming in the sickly light, face wearing a nasty scowl. The thing reached down and grabbed him with a big, angry paw, and Jim came to the sudden realization that he wasn't being attacked by a beast, but rather, a man. A very tall, very robust, very… bear-like man. Jim recoiled; he tried to back away, but as soon as he tried to move backwards he found that the ground had, seemingly, ceased to be. He looked down and realized that he was being held a good four or five feet off the ground, the man's balled fist tightly gripping the collar of his shirt.

"Now, what do we have here, eh?" The man finally said, in a husky, thickly accented voice. He was definitely an experienced space-farer, from the look, smell, and sound of him. Jim felt something cold against his cheek, and he glanced over. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the shining blade of a cutlass, grinning at him.

Jim tried in earnest to explain himself, but could hardly sputter out more than a few non-connected vowels. The man raised an eyebrow, and Jim looked fearfully into into his shining eye. He realized then, that it, like the sword against his skin, was metal. Pure machinery. In fact, in the brief, stunned silence of the moment, he could hear it clicking slightly with every twitch as it peered into him. Illuminating his horrified face with a harsh golden glow.

Jim finally found his courage and opened his mouth once again to speak.

"I'm… I just.. I needed to, uh…"

The cyborg man gazed impatiently at Jim. His expression seemed to say something along the lines of, "You have five seconds to explain yourself, or I'm cutting your head off."

Jim took another deep breath.

"I was looking for a place to hide."

He couldn't think of anything else to say, he was shaking too hard, both with fear and adrenaline. Slowly, he felt himself lowered to the ground. His legs were shaking but he refused to appear deterred. He stood tall.

The man spoke.

"And why is that, lad?" His tone was unkind, but not cruel.

"I need to find something." Jim immediately wished he hadn't said that, sure that the lumbering stranger would question him further, but to his surprise he just chuckled. Jim took careful note of the fact that his sword was still drawn, though no longer pointed at his face.

Just as he was sure he was going to be thrown overboard, a little pink… well, he wasn't sure what it was. A translucent blob, with bulbous eyes that reminded Jim of a puppy, squirmed out of the cyborg's pocket and floated up to his face. The man's expression softened immediately, and he held up his empty hand to stroke the thing.

"Ah, Morphy! There ye are," he cooed.

Jim's fear diminished, and turned to pure curiosity. "Whoa… What is that thing?"

The man smiled a gap-toothed smile at him.

"He's a morph! A little shapeshifter, hah. Rescued 'im on Proteus 1 a long while back, and he took a likin' to me."

As he said this, Morph dripped off of the man's shoulder and floated down to greet Jim directly. He chirped, and nuzzled Jim's cheek; this, in turn, earned a giggle from the previously ultra-tense boy.

"Well, he seems to have taken a liking to you," the man said. His tone was soft, almost charming. He withdrew his sword, and took a long, thoughtful look at Jim. He looked at morph, who chirped. He looked back at Jim, who glared, in a weak attempt to look intimidating. The man inhaled deeply, then sighed, and smiled.

"Morph. C'mere."

Morph chittered, and floated back to the man, who looked at him and said, "Well, what do you think, hm?"

Morph nodded and chirped affirmatively in response. The man's smile widened.

"Ah, what the hell. I s'pose it wouldn't do too much harm t' let ye stay aboard, if'n yer willing t' make yerself useful."

Jim was ecstatic.

"Really? That would be just… I mean… really!?"

The man nodded again.

"What do ye say lad? We got ourselves a deal?"

Jim held out his hand.

"Deal."

The man took Jim's hand and shook it; Jim realized, with a frigid shock, that his right hand, too, was metal. Cold and clicking.

"The name's Silver," he said, giving Jim's hand a firm shake, "John Silver. But you can call me Captain Silver."

"Captain?"

"That's right," Silver said with a hearty laugh, "Captain. What else would I be?"

Jim suddenly felt relieved that he hadn't managed to piss Silver off too bad; angering a regular crew member would have been one thing, but to anger the captain would be completely different.

"And what's your name, lad?"

"My name's Jim. Hawkins."

"Alrighty then, Jimbo! Pleased t' make yer acquaintance."

Jim just nodded. He was still quite wary of this stranger, and wouldn't be eager to show him anything but the minimal amount of respect. And even then, it was only because he was the Captain, and because he had yet to kick Jim off the ship.

Morph chirped and nuzzled Silver's cheek, evidently pleased that Jim would be staying. Silver ordered Jim to collect his things, and led him back up to the deck, to show him the barracks and familiarize him with this ship that he would, in Silver's words, "spend the next few months scrubbing, stem to stern, top to bottom." Jim just raised his eyebrow, and unleashed a sarcastic "yippee," much to Silver's dismay.

"Now, I'll be toleratin' no disrespect towards me or me crew on this ship. Understood, Jim?"

Jim scowled, but nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Captain."

"Yes, Captain."

The two stared each other down for a moment, before Silver finally broke the tense silence.

"That'll do."

Jim followed close behind Silver as they moved across the deck. Some of the crew were already beginning to board, and many of them had begun to notice the strange boy following their captain. Jim could hear whispers of suspicion, dissent. Who is he? What is he doing here? Why is he with the captain? This went on for a minute, before Silver turned suddenly, and shouted, "Zip it! The lot of ya!"

He glowered at them, and within seconds the deck was silent, except for the slow heaves of the floorboards below them.

"This here is Jim. He'll be joinin' us on this voyage," he began sternly. "And I expect ya all to leave him be."

Another murmer among the small crowd, which was now gathering around them.

Silver grinned.

"Ah, don't worry, lads. I'll be keepin' him real busy. He won't be a problem."

Some laughed quietly to themselves. Others just shrugged and walked away.

But one crewman, a tall, spindly creature, with sharp-looking claws and more legs than anyone should realistically need, approached Jim.

"And what do we have here," he sneered, face low and close to Jim's own. His hair was thin and limp, and reminded Jim of dusty cobwebs. His breath was foul, and the stench assaulting Jim's nostrils wasn't helped by the way he dragged out every other word.

Jim scowled.

"Back off, bug-brain."

The crewman snarled, and was just stepping closer to Jim (who had already braced for a fight,) when Silver stepped between the two.

"Now, gents, there's no need for that," he chortled good-naturedly. "Is, there, Mr. Scroop?"

Silver learned towards Scroop; Jim couldn't see either of their expressions, but he could see Scroop backing up, appearing anxious.

"Good," Silver barked, satisfied. "That's that, then. Come on, Jimbo."

The two continued across the deck uninterrupted. The rest of the crew had returned to their posts.

Silver lead Jim down the steps to the barracks. A room bigger than the galley, though not by much; there were uncomfortable-looking hammocks strung from the ceiling, each with a blanket tossed on it. No pillows. Silver led him to a hammock towards the back of the barracks. A dark corner all to his own. Safe.

"You can have this one. Go on, get settled in."

Jim set down his bag. Silver nodded.

"We'll be settin' off soon. Meet me in the galley after the launch, I'll give ye yer first tasks then."

Silver was just turning to leave, when Jim blurted out a tremulous "wait." Silver turned slowly back to face him, quizzical look on his face.

Jim cleared his throat.

"I, ah… Thanks. For what you did back there."

Silver raised an eyebrow. "What do ye mean, lad?"

"You let me stay on your ship. And you got that spider guy to back off. So, thanks."

Silver smiled at him.

"Didn't yer pop ever teach ye t' pick yer fights, lad?" he inquired.

Jim averted his gaze.

"Ah, I see… Father not the teachin' sort, then?"

"No. He's not. He wasn't, I mean. He was more of the 'leaving and never coming back' sort."

"Oh…"

A long moment of silence stretched between them.

"Well, so long as you're under my watch, I s'pose it wouldn't hurt t' hammer a few skills into that thick head o' yours, eh? Given that no one else is goin' to."

"Well don't do me any favors," Jim snapped. Silver only laughed.

"Oh, you can be sure of that, Jimbo. You rightly can," he remarked with a grin.

And with that, Silver turned, and left.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: heya! todd here with a new chapter for ya. sorry about the length of this one, but hopefully it'll be worth the read! super duper thanks to kip again, for their phenomenal help with revising this chapter! enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

It had been about three weeks since Jim set off on his voyage with Captain Silver. Not that he ever actually referred to him as captain, much to Silver's chagrin. Over the past few weeks, Silver had been sure to keep Jim as busy as possible. Scrubbing the deck, helping with all the cooking and cleaning, whatever it took. And between chores, Silver insisted on teaching Jim "important skills." These "skills" mostly consisted of memorizing a glossary of sailing terms, learning how to read maps, how to make proper use of a cutlass, what have you. On this particular evening, while their ship waded through the rosy clouds of the Orion nebula, Silver was teaching Jim how to tie a series of knots while the two sat in the crow's nest, far above the rest of the crew.

Rolling hitch, bowline, sheet bend.

Silver and Jim had been at it for at least a couple of hours, and it was starting to grow dull. Not that Jim was opposed to learning new things, but frankly, everything his mentor said was starting to blur together. Jim looked off into the distance and watched the stars as they passed by them. The wooden edge of the crow's nest was starting to dig into Jim's back. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Stopper knot, clove hitch, two half bends.

"...Now the cleat hitch, that's just for securin' yer ship to the dock. Still, handy t' know. Can't have it flyin' away from ye now, hah!"

Jim snapped back to reality to see Silver holding one end of his rope; the other end was tightly secured to the rim of the crow's nest, in place of a proper cleat.

"Well, go on. Give it a whirl, eh, Jimbo?"

Jim raised an eyebrow at him.

"Right."

He turned and, using one of the vertical boards along the rim of the crow's nest, tied a cleat hitch around it with his length of rope. Silver nodded approvingly.

"Not bad, not bad… Y'know, Jimbo, you got a real knack for this."

"It's no big deal. I mean, it's just knots," Jim muttered as he untied the rope.

Silver shook his head. "You don't give yerself enough credit, lad. Street smarts, boat smarts… It's all as important as anythin' else, y'know."

Jim tied some knots absentmindedly, and started zoning out again.

Two half hitches, square knot. Untie the knot. Flemish coil.

Jim felt the sudden pressure of a large, warm hand on his shoulder. He was so startled, he dropped his length of rope over the side of the crow's nest. Morph, ever the helpful blob, chittered and rushed down to fetch it. Jim turned his head to see Silver looking down at him. He hadn't even seen him move so that he was sitting right next to him. He also hadn't realized how, even when he was sitting, Silver towered over him. The harsh red light of the nebula almost made him appear sinister, and Jim would have thought as much if he didn't know any better.

"Jimbo, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure."

"Why'd you leave home, lad?"

Jim looked down, silently. He wasn't sure how to answer. He couldn't very well tell Silver the truth. And sure, Silver was aware that Jim was a runaway, but… What would he think if he knew the full story? More importantly, what would he do?

It was a long minute before either of them spoke again; during this stretch of uncomfortable quiet, disturbed only by the soft sound of solar winds beating against the sails, Morph returned to the crow's nest and dropped Jim's rope back in his hands. Jim didn't notice.

"I see… Well, ye don't have t' talk about it, if'n you don't want to."

"It's not that, it's just…" He sighed. "Forget it."

Silver, unsure what else to say, merely went back to tying knots for a few minutes. Jim, feeling awkward, at last broke the silence.

"I don't get this one," He blurted out in pure frustration.

Silver looked up at him.

"Well what's the problem, lad?"

"The double bowline. There's too much going on, I don't get it."

Silver chuckled, and demonstrated the knot once more.

"See, it's just like the bowline, but ye got to loop it twice, not just once, y'see?"

"Yeah, I think so…"

Jim attempted the knot once more, but ended up hopelessly tangling his rope. Silver helped him undo it, and he tried again. This time, he seemed to be getting the hang of it.

"There ya go, lad! You got it."

Jim nodded, and carried on with his practicing. The two continued on in relative silence for a while longer, before Silver stood and stretched abruptly.

"Well, come on then! 'S gettin' late. We ought to get some shut-eye."

Jim followed Silver down the ladder. Silver bid Jim a lukewarm goodnight, and retired to his stateroom. Morph was a bit more affectionate, and offered Jim a nuzzle on the cheek before following after Silver. Jim smiled, and walked back to the barracks to get some rest himself.

As he was making his way to his bunk, exhausted and with his eyes barely open (not that it would have mattered; he could barely see in the cabin anyway,) he felt something move just behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks. He had no reason to think that the creaking floorboards behind him indicated any kind of malicious entity, but Jim had a horrible feeling in his gut. A feeling that was validated the moment he turned around, to see a grotesque form silhouetted by the ruby light seeping in from the cabin entrance.

"Hello, cabin boy," the being growled. It didn't take Jim long to gather that the voice belonged to Scroop, who had been causing trouble for him since day one.

"What do you want?" Jim challenged. He kept his voice low, for fear of disturbing the smattering of crewmen who were already sound asleep in their bunks.

"I know what you're up to, boy," Scroop continued, seemingly undeterred by Jim's attempt to appear threatening.

"Oh yeah? And what's that."

Scroop further encroached on Jim, exoskeleton gleaming. His bile-yellow eyes appeared to glow in the darkness, further disturbing Jim.

"Cozying up to the captain, so you can take my rightful place."

"Rightful place?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. I see what you're doing. Cozying up to the captain, trying to be his little protege. Trying to take my rightful place as the captain's successor."

"Listen, bug-brain. I'm not cozying up to anyone. I don't care about anything except getting where I need to go, and that's that."

Jim glared at him. But, try as he might, he just couldn't appear intimidating; to Scroop, Jim was nothing more than a scrawny brat. Jim knew this, and braced himself for whatever may come next.

Scroop only chuckled.

"Rearing for a fight, are we?"

He raised a claw. Jim made the mistake of taking a step backwards, briefly exposing his anxiety over this whole encounter. Scroop cackled. His voice was like gravel being pelted against a window.

"Sleep soundly, cabin boy."

And with that, Scroop returned to his own bunk. Jim laid down, uneasy. He pulled his heavy wool blanket over his head, and let the scratchy thing consume him; he wasn't sure how he'd ever sleep, but he might as well look like he was. Slowly, though, he drifted off, into a restless night of tossing and turning. Dreams of massive pinschers against a sanguine sky, grasping at his throat.

Jim awoke with a start. He bolted upward, nearly bumping heads with none other than Silver, who was standing over his hammock. This realization startled Jim further, and he toppled out of his bunk. This entire three seconds of shock culminated in a hard thud on the floor. Silver could barely contain his amusement. Smiling that wide, gap-toothed smile of his, he chuckled and helped Jim off the floor.

"Sorry t' scare ya lad… Now, keep quiet, keep quiet. Come with me. I want t' show ye somethin'."

Silver left the cabin before Jim could question him as to why he'd woken him up so early in the day, much less in such a frightening way. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jim dragged himself out of bed, though he was loathe to leave the warmth and security that it provided. He pulled on his jacket and slipped into his boots, and stumbled up the steps to the deck, careful not to wake anyone else. Fortunately, the crew seemed to be comprised entirely of very, very heavy sleepers.

Jim found Silver peering eagerly into the eyepiece of a long, vintage-looking telescope. The thing was a bit beat up; scuffed here and there, a couple dents in the metal. But from the way Silver was gazing into it, like it contained some amazing treasure, it must have worked. Jim approached him, curious. It was entirely unlike Silver to be so enthusiastic about something that didn't involve sailing, or cooking, or scolding Jim for some minor infraction.

"C'mere, Jimbo, take a look."

Silver stepped aside and gestured towards the telescope. The thing was set up so tall to accommodate Silver, he didn't even need to bend over to reach the eyepiece.

A brilliant flash of light and color struck Jim's eye; he was so surprised that at first, he had to step back.

"Whoa! Shit! What was that?"

Silver laughed.

"Keep lookin' lad, it ain't over yet."

Jim once again positioned his eye over the eyepiece, and watched intently. He couldn't believe it. Some distant thing, writhing around itself. Violent flashes of blue and white, dancing through space. It moved so wildly and shone so vividly, it almost seemed alive.

"What is that?" He asked again, unable to tear himself away from the telescope.

"A supernova."

"That's what a supernova looks like?"

Silver nodded.

"Aye. A beauty, ain't she?"

"Yeah. I've never seen anything else like it."

Silver smiled, and nodded.

"That there's a mighty big star, too. No doubt it'll become a black hole in due time."

Jim looked up from the telescope. From that distance, the supernova was naught more than a cobalt glimmer against the deep blue of the etherium. He stared at it for another minute, still in awe. Silver smiled down at him.

"Thank you for showing me this," Jim finally said. "It's really, well… Cool."

Silver chuckled.

"Don't mention it, Jimbo. I knew ye'd like it."

Jim smiled at him. The first genuine smile he'd offered up in the three weeks since he'd met Silver.

"Now, we'd best get a move on," Silver sighed, contented. "Rest o' the crew will be wakin' up any time now. Do me a favor, and check the shrouds for me, will ya Jimbo?"

"You got it, Silver."

For once, Silver didn't glare at Jim upon his refusal to refer to him as "Captain Silver." Jim dashed off and checked, double checked, and triple checked that every shroud and stay was tightly secured and unworn. Just for good measure, he checked all the lines as well, and reported back to Silver that everything was ship-shape.

"Good, lad!" He bellowed from the wheel. "Now, go on down t' the galley and get the fire heated, will ye? I got a breakfast t' cook."

"I'm on it!" Jim replied, and he eagerly ran to the galley. He had found himself in a surprisingly energetic mood. He felt invigorated, even after his night of restless sleep.

Jim hurried down the steps to the galley, and began searching for some matches to light the wood-burning stove. If Silver'd been there himself, he would have set the stove ablaze with the torch stowed away in his cybernetic arm. In fact, Jim sometimes wondered why he bothered to keep the matches aboard in the first place. Still, they were handy to have around, for when Silver was busy elsewhere on the ship.

Jim eventually located the matches, and bent over the edge of the stove to light the wood lying inside the metal rim. Just as he'd gotten a pretty decent fire started, he felt rancid breath beating against the back of his neck. He turned, startled, only to see none other than Scroop standing over him.

"Well, well, well, what have we here," Scroop snarled, in that drawn-out, snake-like way of his.

"I could say the same to you," Jim retorted. He tried to back up, but nearly burned himself on the hot edge of the stove. Instead, he carefully sidled to his right, looking for any opening to escape, or fight. Whichever came first.

"Whatever you think of the captain," Scroop growled, further approaching Jim, "You're wrong."

Jim froze.

"What do you mean?"

"You think he wants to take you under his wing, don't you? Teach you, make you a leader?"

Jim went quiet. Scroop laughed to himself.

"I know that's what you're hoping for," Scroop continued, raising a claw and pressing the razor-sharp point of it against Jim's throat, "But it's never going to happen."

Jim glared at Scroop. He almost didn't want to believe him; for as little as Jim actually trusted Silver, he did, at the very least, appreciate his mentorship.

Scroop went on with his monologue.

"I know Captain Silver, and I have for years. He cares about nothing, except treasure."

Now this caught Jim's attention. His heart raced. Had Scroop somehow found out about the map? Was he planning on ratting Jim out? Was he going to steal it, or worse, kill him for it? Jim anxiously bit at his lip. He'd just have to wait and see.

"You're nothing more than a snot-nosed brat to him. He isn't mentoring you, he's just giving you chores. And you're a damned fool for falling for it," He hissed.

So Scroop didn't know about the map. But then, why would he mention treasure? What did that have to do with…

Suddenly, Jim understood. In one fluid motion, he lunged to the side and grabbed a piece of burning wood, and chucked it at Scroop. It smacked him squarely on the top of the head, lighting his cap, and a fair amount of his hair, ablaze. Scroop screamed out in pain, ripping off his cap and batting desperately at his head in an attempt to extinguish his unwashed, cobwebby hair. Jim took the opportunity to flee. As he was bolting up the stairs, however, Silver himself descended them. Anxious to get away from the both of them, Jim didn't think twice about pushing past Silver and sprinting across the deck.

"What's all this, then?" Silver questioned, not fully grasping what was going on. Scroop ignored him and chased after Jim. In turn, Silver chased after Scroop.

Jim ran around the deck in a blind panic. He had nowhere to flee to, and nowhere to hide. His fearful antics attracted the attention of some of the crew, who slowly gathered to watch this fiasco occur. Eventually, Jim found himself at the bow of the ship. Scroop quickly caught up with Jim, and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. He lifted him a good ten feet off the ground, and held him over the side of the ship. Jim's first instinct was to kick him in the face, but he quickly realized that doing so would likely end with him being dropped into the deep blue abyss of the etherium.

It wasn't another five second before Silver caught up to them, pistol drawn and aimed directly at Scroop's head, which was still haloed by smoke.

"What in blue blazes are you doin', Scroop?" He growled.

"Oh, don't tell me you're soft for this boy, captain," Scroop sneered. He turned his eyes to the crew, the majority of which were now gathered in a half-circle around the trio. The crewmen murmured among themselves; Silver could just make out some words of accusation, and some of dissent. He couldn't let himself lose his composure, not now.

"Yer speakin' pure nonsense, Scroop," He retorted. "There's no need for this, just put the boy down."

Scroop cackled.

"And if I don't?"

Silver cocked his gun in response.

"I'll say it once more. Put. The boy. Down."

Scroop, at last, complied, perhaps not too keen on having his brains splattered on the deck in front of his peers. He threw Jim onto the ground. Jim stood and stumbled away from both Scroop and Silver, wide-eyed and shaking with adrenaline. Silver kept his pistol raised at Scroop, who made no motion to either fight or defend himself. The two stared each other down for quite a time. Even the rest of the crew had fallen into a tense silence. Slowly, though, Silver lowered his weapon, as though he and Scroop had had a full conversation without either of them opening their mouths.

Finally, Jim turned to Silver and spoke up.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Silver turned to him, having withdrawn his gun. All eyes were now on Jim.

"What do ye mean, lad?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Jim snapped. "You're a pirate. You all are."

Silver took a deep breath, painfully aware that his entire crew was watching. He would have to be careful, no matter what he chose to say or do. One wrong step and he was done for.

"And is that a, ah… a problem for ye, Jimbo?" He said, projecting whatever confidence he could. He straightened himself, and tucked his hands calmly behind his back.

"Yeah it's a problem! It's a huge problem, actually! All this time I've been hanging around with a bunch of murderous thieves, and I didn't even know it. So how do I know you can be trusted, huh?"

The deck was silent once more. Jim could hear his heart beating hard and fast. He felt like he might faint. Why did he decide to confront Silver now, with no way to defend himself? And with the rest of the crew standing not ten feet away from him, he would be completely screwed if he was attacked.

Silver didn't say anything. He looked at Jim, and then looked back at Scroop, and then looked at the crew.

"Well, what are ye just standin' around for?" Silver shouted at the crewmen, all of which were eagerly watching this quandary unfold. "Get back to work, ye brainless twits!"

And like that, the crew moved back to their stations. They were still whispering amongst themselves, but Silver chose not to worry too much about that for the time being. Right now, he had a much bigger beast to boil. Silver grabbed Jim by the wrist, and dragged him to his stateroom.

"Come on. We need t' have a chat, you and I."

Jim was too terrified to speak.


End file.
